


all for one

by isloremipsumafterall



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: All ladies musketeers pretty much, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6757273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isloremipsumafterall/pseuds/isloremipsumafterall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sylvie, Constance, and Flea are the Inseparables and the Musketeers who serve Paris first and foremost</p>
            </blockquote>





	all for one

**Author's Note:**

> from estheronvenus at tumblr's idea that these three were the musketeers

Sylvie didn’t mind getting up early, while it was far from her favourite thing to do but she’d been used to it for all her life.

 

The garrison was still foggy when she stepped outside, there was a chill in the air in the early September morning that made her shiver but she knew the day would warm up, she could just feel it in her bones as sure as she knew every street in Paris.

 

The door next to hers opened with a loud creak and Constance stepped out, stifling a yawn and nodding to her.

 

“I suppose Flea isn’t up yet?” Constnace asked, snorting at her own question as Sylvie didn’t need to answer it. The last member of their little group hated waking at dawn, Flea was much more likely to still have a headache from the drink last night that she had swallowed as she played the men of Paris at cards.

 

Sylvie exchanged an amused glance with Constance, “We’d be remiss in our duty if we just let her sleep. The bucket or the trough this time?”

 

“Bucket.” Constance replied, stretching her arms and then walking down to the courtyard to grab one, filling it with water. She made her way back upstairs and Sylvie opened the door to Flea’s room where their comrade slept in peace.

 

It wasn’t going to last as Constance dumped the water on her with no regrets and both she and Sylvie couldn’t contain their laughter as Flea yelped and spluttered, sitting up her bed and glaring at the both of them.

 

“Was that necessary?” Flea demanded, pushing her wet hair out of her face.

 

Sylvie walked over to lean down and pat the blanket on top of Flea’s leg, “Perhaps not but we know of no other way to truly wake you.” It was nightmare when they were in the field and Flea huffed, having no rebuttal for that.

 

She shoved Constance and Sylvie out, drying herself as best she could and they waited outside her door as she got ready. Once Flea stepped out, sticking on her hat and muttering about the two of them again, they made their way side by side by side towards the marketplace. After years of working together there was no bumping into each other, no missteps or doubts about each other, Sylvie had been working beside Constance and Flea for so long that it was second nature to her.

 

They stopped at a stall, purchasing a loaf of bread and some cheese that they split between the three of them, people in the market nodded at them as they walked by. Before she had become a Musketeer Sylvie had lived on these very streets, struggling with a way to help the people. When Ninon had approached her about joining the Musketeers she’d refused at first, thinking them as nothing but puppets to the King.

 

It was only after she noticed that Ninon had placed a priority on the people that Sylvie had agreed to join. About a week after her had come Constance, who was looking for an escape out of an arranged marriage and for something important to do in her life. And then Flea, who was looking for a way to make a name for herself and help the poorest people in the Court of Miracles.

 

They’d gone through all the training together, fought bravely alongside each other and knew all of each other’s scars. It was no wonder the Queen had nicknamed them the Inseparables.

 

“We should follow up on leads today,” Flea said, in a much better mood now that she’d gotten some food in her. “One of the men yesterday claimed to know something missing messenger from England.”

 

“I still say the man probably took the money himself and ran.” Sylvie shook her head, beneath her hat her curls bounced every which way.

 

“I wouldn’t put it past him from what Alice told us.” Constance replied, referring to Alice who was the Queen’s official notary and was in charge of looking over the letters to ensure there weren’t codes hidden in them. “She did say the last time he came he kept naming the worth of goods he carried could be sold on at the market.”

 

“If there’s anything being traded around the lower markets I’d hear about it,” Flea shrugged, where Sylvie knew the main market in Paris Flea still kept her ear to the markets being held in secret.

 

A sudden commotion behind them broke their conversation and they all turned to see what was going on. Yells of ‘thief’ and ‘vandal’ filled the air and Sylvie drew he gun without second thought. From the corner of her eye she could see Constance drawing her sword and running to place herself a further distance from Sylvie and block one of the alleys in case whoever it was ran that way.

 

Flea charged into the crowd and Sylvie followed after, they made their way to the center where the yells were coming from and saw a hooded figure running.

 

“Stop!” Sylvie yelled, “For the King’s Musketeers!” Careful of where she was aiming she fired a warning shot nearby the figure, making them jerk away and lose their balance.

 

Flea took advantage of it and tackled them into the ground. Constance came running behind them having heard the shot and figuring that the thief was going the other way and rested her sword against the thief’s neck before they could try to punch Flea to get her off.

 

Sylvie stepped over to them on the other side and glanced down. As she noticed who it was she sighed and exchanged a weary look with Constance.

 

“Ah Celine,” Flea leaned back where she was still on top of the other woman and crossed her arms, “Your mistress letting you outside again?”

 

Celine a.k.a “Kitty” was a servant to Milady de Winter, a noble that Constance had had several run ins with, none of them pleasant. She herself was a servant to the Cardinal and Constance was certain she’d done several of the dirty deeds he refused to do himself. She’d been out to find the proof of that for over a year now and Sylvie and Flea had had to hear about it for months on end.

 

Celine tilted her chin in defiance and Flea rolled her eyes, getting off the younger woman, but not before she grabbed whatever it was Celine had stolen.

 

“Milady must be in more financial distress than we thought if she can’t even feed her favourite servant.” Syvlie commented, catching Constance’s eyes.

 

Celine again refused to answer them and then Constance sighed, putting her sword away and reaching down to pull the girl up. She nodded at Syvlie and walked them over to a corner where she began whispering furiously.

 

“She’s attempting to get her on our side again isn’t she?” Flea muttered, taking a bite of the stolen bread.

 

“You realize you were supposed to give that back?” Sylvie retorted instead, frowning at Flea.

 

“It’s my reward.” Flea shrugged, with no apologies. Sylvie noticed she was breaking it into pieces and slipping it into the hands of children that walked by but she said nothing and just turned to pay the woman for the stolen food.

 

When she returned to where Flea stood there was only a small chunk of bread left and when Constance and Celine walked back over Sylvie plucked the bread from her hands to offer it to Celine.

 

“Go on,” Constance told her, a hand on Celine’s back. For all that they didn’t approve of what Celine was doing they weren’t going to let her starve.

 

Celine still eyed them warily, taking the food and then jerking away from Constance and out of the market.

 

“So?” Sylvie prompted and Constance sighed.

 

“She’s still loyal, but her mistress is out of town this week and hence the lack of food. I told her to stop by the garrison in the mornings if she wishes for some.”

 

Sylvie smiled at that, “At least then she’ll be Ninon’s problem. If anyone can convince Celine to join our cause it’s her.”

 

“Still wish she’d given me something more,” Constance muttered, disappointed by the lack of information she still had to go on.

 

“Yes yes, and I’m sure we’ll hear all about that tonight,” Flea said and draped her arm around Constance, “Cheer up Connie, it’s not even truly morning and we’ve already stopped one thing today.”

 

“Flea’s right, we’ll take our small victories, there’ll be larger ones to come.” Sylvie assured Constance, she had every intention of making sure of it.

 

“Right,” Constance straightened at that, smiling in gratitude and then she shrugged Flea’s arm off. “And don’t call me Connie.”

 

Sylvie let the familiar argument between the two wash over her while she thought about all the things they still had to do, one being find the messenger from England and they’d been told to report to the King later. Which really meant that right afterwards the Queen would be expecting them.

 

They made their way back to the garrison where everyone would be up by now, Ninon stood in the middle, watching the new recruits stumble around as they were unused to the early morning.

 

“Ah there you three are,” She smiled at them but it didn’t quite meet her eyes and the three of them instantly stiffened. That could only mean that Ninon was about to make a request to them that they wouldn’t like.

 

“Captain,” Sylvie nodded back and clamped her hands behind her back, biting the inside of her cheek so she didn’t end up pleading that whatever it was they could get themselves out of it.

 

“I have a favour to ask,” Ninon said and Flea groaned loudly, causing the other two to glare at her to which she muttered her apologies for. “We have a new recruit,” Ninon went on to explain like she hadn’t heard Flea, “She comes from a friend of mine’s village.” Ninon turned her head back to the new recruits, “Jeanne!” She yelled out and a small brown haired girl came running.

 

She had streaks of mud on her clothes that they recognized from brawling in the courtyard and her cheek already had a bruise growing on it.

 

“Jeanne this is Sylvie, Constance, and Flea. They’ll be your mentors for your training.”

 

“Captain,” Sylvie began, putting her hands on her hips, “We aren’t really trainers per say.” While each of them had gotten involved in training younger recruits now and again if they noticed they were lacking an ability while in the courtyard, taking on an actual recruit out into the field had only been done once them and had been a disaster that Sylvie didn’t wish repeating.

 

“I think it’s time we try again,” Ninon just said, catching Sylvie’s eyes and quietly asking them all to do this.

 

“Well first thing’s first,” Flea relented, “Proper training so you don’t end up with that again,” She pointed to Jeanne’s cheek.

 

Dragging the younger girl off Flea glanced back at Sylvie and Constance, practically telling them they’d talk about all this later.

 

Constance rubbed at her forehead and then went to talk to Ninon, leaving Sylvie behind and alone in the courtyard until Charlotte came up to her.

 

“Practice?” Charlotte asked, raising her gun slightly in her hand to show what she meant.

 

“Please,” Sylvie sighed and followed her to the shooting range at the end of the garrison. The loading and reloading of her gun and focusing on a target soothed her nerves slightly. While Charlotte was a better shot Sylvie’s always landed in the centre circle still.

 

“Did you wish to talk about it?” Charlotte asked and outside of Constance and Flea she was Sylvie’s closest friend at the garrison. Four years ago she’d come to visit Paris and Sylvie and the others had put a stop to the Cardinal’s plans to blame an assassination attempt on her father. She’d stayed on with the Musketeers, impressed by them.

 

“We’re to train a new recruit.” Sylvie told her, pushing her hair back under her hat as it slipped out. “Captain’s orders.”

 

“Ah,” Charlotte nodded in her understanding and while normally she would have chatted on about it she could tell Sylvie didn’t wish to talk about it.

 

Constance was approaching them and Sylvie lowered her gun to greet her friend.

 

“What’d the Captain say?” Sylvie asked, hoping that Constance may have charmed them out of this.

 

“That we have no choice.” Constance sighed, “Maybe it won’t be as bad.”

 

“Last time we blew up a church.” Sylvie reminded her and Constance winced.

 

“To be fair we’d have done that with or without the new recruit.” Flea said, sneaking in behind them.

 

“Shouldn’t you be watching our new ward?” Sylvie asked her but Flea shook her head.

 

“I’ve got her practicing her falls. Ought to keep her busy. She’s got a temper, reminds me of a certain someone.” Flea glanced over at Constance and Sylvie hid a smile behind her hand as Constance let out an indignant noise.

 

“All right enough,” She told them, “We’ll just deal with this. In about an hour tell Jeanne to get cleaned up so she can accompany us to the King. We can introduce her to the Queen.”

 

“On her first day,” Constance raised an eyebrow, “That’s a little mean.”

 

Sylvie just shrugged and smiled as innocently as she could. It was practically a rite of passage for Musketeers anyway.

 

Jeanne didn’t look happy that she’d be going to the palace while she was bruised up but Flea assured her that Anne had seen much worse from the three of them, going into a story about the time they’d been trapped in a monetary with Anne and beehive throwing nuns. Sylvie and Constance both cut in every now and then, either spinning an elaborate lie on Flea’s story or going along with it just to tease Jeanne.

 

The King was in high spirits when they arrived and like always the Cardinal stared at them with a barely there sneer on his face. Sylvie reported their progress with the messenger – which sadly wasn’t much of one- but the King shrugged them off and was certain they wouldn’t fail him.

 

They slipped into the hall afterwards, greeting Samara who was waiting for them.

 

“How are things here?” Sylvie asked the Queen’s counselor in a hushed whisper.

 

“The Cardinal has hopes to find the messenger before you do,” Samara informed them, “He wishes to make fools of you.”

 

“When doesn’t he?” Constance and Flea both muttered together.

 

“I’ve also seen him talking often with the ambassador from Spain.” Samara frowned, “Given our relationship with them I think he seeks to sour it.”

 

“That can’t be anything good,” Sylvie agreed, biting her lip and was relieved when Samara informed them she’d keep an eye on it.

 

Anne looked as lovely as always when they walked in and bowed. Jeanne bowed so low the hat that Flea had placed on her head fell to the ground and they snickered.

 

“This is out latest recruit, Jeanne,” Sylvie introduced her and Jeanne was red faced as she bowed again. Constance patted her shoulder when she leaned back up and whispered something to her that relaxed Jeanne just a bit.

 

“You’ll learn much beside these Musketeers,” Anne smiled at them, “They are France’s finest.”

 

Sylvie, Constance, and Flea all straightened with pride at that, feeling a warmth in their stomachs that could only be gratitude.

 

“Tell me the news then,” Anne asked of them and they each reported to her the going on’s in the city that they knew of.

 

It was noon by the time they had finished their meeting and Anne thanked them for their services with a nod. They scurried out, ready for the rest of the day and only stopping when they noticed that Jeanne wasn’t with them.

 

Turning back they saw her standing in thought at the end of the hall.

 

“You truly all fight for the people then?” Jeanne asked quietly when they approached her.

 

“The people of Paris deserve it,” Sylvie said, “They’ve been through much and they deserve the equality that we can give to them in peace and security.”

 

“All of them,” Flea agreed, resting her hand on Sylvie’s right shoulder.

 

“It’d be nice if we served the world in that regard but Paris is a good starting point,” Constance said with a laugh and she rested her hand on Sylvie’s left shoulder.

 

“Then I do to.” Jeanne lifted her head, eyes burning in a determination that they all recognized.

 

“Well then,” Sylvie’s mouth turned up into a smile, “Welcome to the Musketeers.”


End file.
